


Defector

by YouKnowNothinJonSno



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Fluff, Interrogation, M/M, Slow Burn, Throwing Caution to the Wind, a change in loyalties, defecting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouKnowNothinJonSno/pseuds/YouKnowNothinJonSno
Summary: What if Draco Malfoy defected from the Death Eaters in order to warn Harry of an impending attack the summer before sixth year? Instead of spending the year trying to kill Dumbledore, Draco's change of heart leads to a budding romance.





	1. Waiting

The day had been stifling, even with how gloomy and cloudy it was outside. No breeze had found its way through Privet Drive, no matter how much Harry’d wished for one. But with nightfall came a torrent of rainwater and stormy weather, and even the miserable wailing of the wind couldn’t shake Harry’s relief at the heat’s respite. He laid on his back on his small bed, trying to make time go faster by reciting spells in his head.

Downstairs, Harry could hear the television humming out the theme song to one of Dudley’s favorite shows. The Dursleys had been as unpleasant as ever this summer, but they left Harry alone for the most part. They’d never been particularly fond of his presence, but now they shied away from him, clearly fearful. It almost made Harry smile. And it almost made him sick. However vile the Dursleys were, there was something disturbing about feeling unsafe in your own home. It made Harry think of another vile person whom the Order claimed had become the base house for Voldemort. And Draco Malfoy was stuck there because of his parents, not because of his own choices.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. Malfoy wasn’t his problem anymore. It was Voldemort he had to worry about now. After the death of his godfather, Harry wasn’t willing to lose anyone else to the machinations of Tom Riddle. He couldn’t wait out the summer like this again, just sitting for months while Voldemort was out there. He needed to act.

But what could he do? He was barely sixteen, he had no access to the wizarding world’s news, and Dumbledore had made him promise to stay put with his horrible aunt and uncle. If he couldn’t trust Dumbledore’s judgement, who _could_ he trust?

With a sigh, Harry sat up and slumped off his mattress, opting for the chair by his window instead. He’d sent Hedwig out with letters to Ron and Hermione the previous day, and she had yet to return. His friends were both staying at the Burrow, a fact that Harry tried desperately hard not to be too jealous about. Why did they get to be there together, but Harry was forced to hide out with the muggles who hated his guts?

The stars were hidden behind dark clouds, and between the whipping winds and the torrential downfall, Harry was hard-pressed to see anything even resembling a snow owl in the sky. The storm just made him feel more pent up. What he’d give to take his Firebolt out for a ride, even in _this_ weather.

“Boy!” Uncle Vernon hollered from downstairs, and Harry groaned.

“What?” he shouted back, not interested in getting up just to endure his uncle’s accusations or admonishments or whatever it was that warranted him speaking to Harry at all.

“Get down here!” Uncle Vernon insisted, voice as bristly as his triple-chin.

“What is it?” Harry yelled, starting to rise grudgingly from his seat. He could hear his uncle’s furious huff from here.

“There is a _strange_ boy here to see you,” Vernon growled out, emphasizing ‘strange’ in the way he did to avoid the word ‘magic’ or ‘wizard’. The Dursleys seemed to think not acknowledging the wizarding world would make it go away, though Harry thought their lives would be less stressful if they just accepted it.

A wizard? To see Harry? It must be Ron! Somehow, he’d gotten permission to retrieve Harry, or he’d come without permission like that summer before second year — either way, Harry was going to the Burrow!

Glancing around, Harry popped open his mostly packed trunk and tossed in a couple textbooks he’d been leafing through, and his favorite quill and ink, before snapping it closed again and setting it beside his bunk. He hardly unpacked while staying at number four, Privet Drive, and so there wasn’t much to prepare. Presumably, Ron would come up and help him carry everything, since neither of them could use magic yet, so Harry left it all there and bounded down out of his room and down the stairs, eager to see his best mate again.

Before he could reach the bottom step however, Vernon Dursley was there blocking his path, his lumpy face set in its usual grimace.

“I don’t want any funny business, you hear?” he warned, glowering as threateningly as he was able.

“What sort of funny business?” Harry asked innocently, plucking his wand from his back pocket and twirling it between his fingers. “Magic?”

Uncle Vernon’s face turned the color of puce. “ _Don’t say that word!_ ” he hissed furiously. “Don’t you dare! Not in my house!”

Harry stopped with the aimless twirling and gripped the handle, pointing it in his uncle’s ugly mug. “I think I’ll say what I want. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The fear that flashed across his uncle’s face was priceless, his eyes twitching and mouth trembling like a buffoon. Even if it made something in Harry’s gut twist to semi-threaten muggles with magic, he knew it was the only way to keep his uncle from treating him too poorly.

“Are you leaving then?” he spat out, fury and terror warring across his features as he stepped back and out of the way.

“I hope so,” Harry said, and with that he pushed past his uncle and slid his wand back into his pocket. Behind him, he could hear the huffing of his uncle as he returned to the living room. He couldn’t be bothered by his extended family however, not when Ron was at the door waiting to take him back to the wizarding world, hopefully for good.

When he reached the door — Vernon had closed it on their visitor, forcing him to wait out in the rain — Harry swung it open, his mouth forming an apology and a greeting at once, but all sound vanished from his throat as he took in the person standing before him.

“Potter,” the boy said, soaked to the bone from the storm, his silvery blonde hair plastered to his forehead unevenly.

Harry blanched. “ _Malfoy?_ ”


	2. The Deal

“Potter, we have to leave,” Malfoy was saying, his tone and posture screaming of fear.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked again; maybe it was a practical joke. Maybe Ron was pulling his leg. Maybe he had to come in disguise.

“Yes, Potter,” the boy said, exasperation seeping into his panicked voice, “it’s me, Draco Malfoy — now, really, we must go.”

Harry crossed his arms on the threshold, unsure what was happening but not willing to go along without an explanation. “I’m not going anywhere with you, _Malfoy_ ,” he spat. But he couldn’t manage his usual disgust when Malfoy was looking at him with those wide, fearful eyes.

“Potter,” Malfoy insisted, the urgency palpable, “ _Harry_ , we don’t have time for this. They’re coming.” The blonde was frantic, eyes flitting around like he expected someone to apparate here and grab him. Now that Harry got a good look at him, he could see that Malfoy’s skin was paler than normal, a sort of sickly green hue tinting his face. His hands were quaking at his sides. And his eyes. Those silvery eyes were so afraid. Malfoy had never been a good actor. He couldn’t fake that.

“What are you talking about, Malfoy?” he asked warily, not moving from his spot in the doorway. Malfoy had minimal cover from the rain under the awning, but Harry wasn’t about to invite him inside. Petunia would start shrieking about the water warping her hardwood floors, for one thing, and Harry really didn’t need to involve the Dursleys right now.

Malfoy screwed up his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, there was a look of determination on his face. “Potter, the Dark Lord is going to attack this house tonight. He is going to kill you and anyone here. There’s not much time. You need to leave.”

There was a beat of silence as Harry took this in. He’d never seen Malfoy this earnest. “Why should I trust you?” he asked quietly. Something about Malfoy’s demeanor made Harry already trust him, but he wanted to hear Malfoy’s answer all the same.

Malfoy let out a growl of frustration, and for a moment, Harry thought Malfoy had lost all patience — he was going to punch him, or drag him outside, _something_ — but Malfoy just took a firm hold of his left sleeve and yanked it up his arm. The skin exposed was branded with a horrid, writhing snake, its body emerging from the mouth of a skull. The tattoo itself was black as pitch, but the edges were an angry red. Was it brand new? Or was he being summoned?

“I was forced to take it,” Malfoy murmured, voice so quiet Harry could barely hear it. “I didn’t want to.”

Harry was dumbstruck. Malfoy was a Death Eater. All these years, Harry was right about him; he was a villain. But Malfoy was here, now, on the doorstep of his muggle aunt’s house, warning him that Voldemort was coming. And when Voldemort found out, he would kill him.

“How long do we have?” Harry whispered. No one was listening but it felt safer to keep their voices down.

Malfoy’s head snapped up, surprise written across his features, but he didn’t question Harry’s decision. “Less than fifteen minutes, I’d wager,” he breathed.

Fifteen minutes. How could they escape in so little time?

“Can you apparate?” he checked, though he doubted even purebloods were taught so young.

“We can’t use magic,” Malfoy protested. “We still have the Trace.”

Harry frowned. “If the Ministry comes, we’re safe.”

Malfoy was shaking his head before Harry could finish. “He has people in the Ministry.”

“Then how – ” Harry began to splutter, feeling dread pool in his stomach.

“Do you have your broom?” Malfoy asked, cutting him off.

Harry let out a huff of frustration. “No!” he hissed. “It’s at the Burrow.”

Malfoy pursed his lips, but merely said, “You can take mine then.” He nodded to the side, and Harry noticed a Nimbus 2000 leaning against the wall for the first time. “Now go!”

Harry shook his head, as if that would make everything clear. “Wait,” he said distractedly, “come in. I have to….”

Malfoy’s hand shot out and grabbed Harry’s arm. “There’s no time, Harry!”

“One minute,” Harry insisted, clutching onto Malfoy’s cloak in turn and dragging him into the house, Aunt Petunia’s hardwood floors be damned.

“Potter,” Malfoy groaned, glaring at Harry, “there’s no time to gather your things – ”

“One minute!” he hissed, cutting off Malfoy’s protest and leaving him by the door as he barged into the kitchen.

Aunt Petunia dropped the spatula she was holding and held her hand to her heart as it clattered to the floor. “ _You_ ,” she spat as she recovered her composure. “Are you trying to kill me now?”

“Aunt Petunia,” he blurted out, trying to keep any bitterness from his voice, “you need to take your family and leave now. There’s no time to pack anything, just drive away as fast as you can and don’t come back. There are wizards coming to kill us all.”

It was silent for a moment. Then his aunt said, very calmly, “I knew this day would come.”

Harry didn’t have time for her dramatic monologues today. “Then you should know to run and not look back.”

After a moment of scrutinizing him, Petunia gave a curt nod. Grabbing her purse on her way into the living room, she called out, “Vernon, I’m going to the sports store. There’s a limited-time sale on those golf clubs you were interested in. You’ll need to show me which ones you want.”

“It’s nine o’clock in the evening, Pet,” Vernon protested.

“If we don’t catch this sale, we won’t be getting them for another month at least,” Petunia warned.

Vernon huffed in his unhappy way, and Harry heard the tell-tale signs of him struggling to get up from his couch seat.

“And Duddy-kins, you’re coming too,” Petunia added brusquely.

“But mum – ” Dudley began to whine, but Petunia cut him off uncharacteristically.

“No buts,” she snapped, “bring your gameboy with you in the car. We’re leaving right now.”

Harry smiled to himself as he heard Dudley groan. Aunt Petunia had her moments.

He rushed back to where he’d left Malfoy in the hall. The other boy seemed even more agitated inside; he was hugging his arms loosely, and his eyes kept darting to the windows and door. His lower lip was trapped between his teeth.

“Alright,” Harry told him, “we can go.”

Malfoy nodded stiffly, and nodded toward the door. “Take my broom,” he said, not moving.

Harry paused. “Come on, then,” he prompted.

Malfoy glanced at him, then away at the windows again. “I can’t come with you, Harry,” he stated calmly.

Harry’s fists clenched of their own volition. Anger was rising up in him like it had all fifth year. “Like hell you can’t,” he growled. “We go together or not at all.”

Malfoy glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow haughtily. “Don’t get all sentimental on me _now_ , Potter.”

“You’re coming,” Harry insisted stubbornly, “or I’m staying.”

Malfoy glared at him. “I can’t come with you, idiot,” he hissed angrily. “They’ll find us.”

Harry crossed his arms. “How?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, which looked at odds with his stiff demeanor. “He can find me through this,” he spat, gesturing to his now-covered left forearm.

Harry worked his jaw. “How long will it take him to find you?” he demanded, refusing to move toward the door.

Malfoy was still glaring. “Not long,” he ground out.

Harry couldn’t let Malfoy die for him. It wasn’t right. They were enemies, they were supposed to fight each other not die for each other. It was ridiculous, nonsensical.

“Well, it’ll take even less time if they just find both of us standing here,” Harry countered, making a show a plopping down on the bottom step of the stairs.

Malfoy was glowering at him, but there was something else in that look. A terror that he couldn’t quite mask. “Don’t be stupid, Potter,” he scoffed mirthlessly. “If you don’t run I’ll be killed for nothing. At least give me an honorable death, will you?”

“How about,” Harry offered, standing again and approaching the other boy, “I give you no death at all, and we leave here together?” He was standing in front of Malfoy now, and there was something enchanting about him this close, something in the way his eyes flickered with emotion, or the turn of his mouth, or the strands of his hair dancing in the light.

Malfoy swallowed. “Harry, please,” he said, dropping all pretenses. He was terrified. “You need to go.” His right hand came up and pushed at Harry gently. “Please.”

He wanted to obey that voice. He wanted to do whatever it asked. “Not without you,” he said, catching Malfoy’s wrist in his hand. “Draco.”


	3. The Summons

“You’re a bloody imbecile,” Draco breathed, and with that he was dragging Harry to the door.

Outside, the storm was as fierce as ever, whipping Harry’s hair into his eyes, but the thought of mounting a broom again, even in such dire circumstances, had him internally whooping for joy. He was almost free.

He grabbed the Nimbus 2000, marveling at the smooth feel of it in his hand, and jogged out into the rain, Draco following behind. He stopped once they reached the street and mounted the broom, hoping the storm would mask them from his muggle neighbors, and waited until Draco stopped beside him.

“Hold on,” Harry shouted over the wind, and Draco only nodded as he slipped onto the Nimbus behind Harry and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist. As they lifted into the air, Harry couldn’t tell if the thrill shooting up his spine was from the flight or from the feeling of Draco hugging him from behind. He could feel the other boy’s chest pressed tightly against his own back, Draco’s face tucked into Harry’s shoulder, and it was doing strange things to Harry’s stomach.

But now was not the time to dwell on that. He took off as fast as the broom would allow, gaining altitude until the houses looked like lego blocks below, and he could just barely make out the Dursleys driving away in their car. And even as Harry and Draco flew away, he could still hear the loud bang of apparition from below as Death Eaters appeared and swarmed number four, Privet Drive. Harry hoped they wouldn’t pursue the Dursleys in an attempt to find him. Maybe they’d just wait, thinking they’d gone out to the pictures or something.

He flew up until the clouds began to obscure his view, determined to put as much distance as possible between them before dropping down to navigate. They’d only been flying a few minutes when Draco gasped in Harry’s ear and let go with one arm.

“Draco!” Harry shouted, letting go of the broom with one hand so he could clutch onto Draco’s remaining arm. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s calling me,” Draco groaned. “It – ahh – it burns!”

Rage swelled in Harry again, rage for the dark wizard who had done this to the boy behind him. “Just hold on,” Harry shouted back, hoping Draco could hear him above the relentless wind. “You’re going to be fine.”

Draco whimpered in response, hugging Harry tighter with his right arm and nestling his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. It made Harry so scared. He would give anything for a biting remark or recycled insult. Anything to prove Draco was alright, that he was back to his old self. Suddenly, Draco’s right arm loosened, his body going slack, and Harry could feel him sliding sideways off the broom. Before he could fall completely, Harry twisted around and clutched the front of Draco’s robes in his fist, yanking him around to the front of Harry’s body. Wrapping an arm around Draco’s limp form, he steadied the broom with the other.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised in a whisper as he leaned into the broom to urge it faster. “I won’t let them take you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you want more :)


End file.
